The Indispensable Wife

by Philippa Lodge

  She stiffened at first, but soon she leaned against him, cuddling under his chin. She whispered, “I am sorry, Dom. I should have stayed at la Brosse.”

  He sighed. “Perhaps. But you were right that you needed to be here. We should have protected you better. I could have stayed beside you instead of joining the fighting.”

  He felt lust stirring, but his strongest emotions at the moment were relief and affection at being home and being with her. And being off his feet. They had traveled through the twilight and arrived in the village when it was full dark. No one had slept due to pre-battle nerves. He wondered if the night before battle was always nerve-wracking and thought he would ask Jean-Louis later.

  But for now, his mind was gradually going blank. After a few minutes, Aurore began breathing evenly; she had fallen asleep. He closed his eyes and tucked his head into the corner of the high-backed chair.

  A knock sounded on the door, causing him to jerk awake. He must have dozed off, too. Aurore sat up with a flurry, but without hitting him or crying out in fear.

  “Entrez!” he called, holding Aurore on his lap.

  Petit le Grand entered, dressed in plain clothing, looking as scruffy and unrefined as he ever did when training young soldiers. He bowed stiffly. “An emissary from the king, Monsieur, Madame.”

  “Are you our majordomo now, Petit?” Aurore smiled. She patted Dom’s hands, so he finally let her rise, and he stood beside her.

  Petit smiled back at her: a rare expression for the grumpy old man whose job it was to shout at young men and boys until they could disport themselves creditably with every weapon. “Until Renaud returns from la Brosse, Madame. Sensible to have a strong arm guarding the door. My son and some of the other men can get the guards organized.”

  Dom nodded his approval, both of having another layer of safety and of Petit’s son taking charge of the guard. “Show the emissary in, please.”

  The secretary who had taken their information to the king about the de Lucenays entered. His black suit should have looked as sober as a cleric’s or even as Henri’s, but when the sunlight shone on it through the window, the elaborate black on black brocade glimmered. His snowy white sleeves glowed from the elbow down to the wrist, rivaled only by the gold threads that glinted in his lacy cravat. His only apparent concession to being far from the king was riding boots instead of high-heeled court shoes. Likely, this was his plainest clothing. Some men existed only in the thin air of the altitudes of court and could barely breathe in the provinces.

  After a few pleasantries, he said, “His Highness sent me and a small platoon of musketeers to observe the situation, Monsieur, Madame.”

  Dom nodded. It was more than the king had promised. Musketeers.

  Aurore squeezed Dom’s arm and thanked the man. “We’ve just sent word to the king. My brother left only a short time ago. Surely you crossed him on the road?”

  The secretary shrugged. “We arrived in la Brosse last night after you had left. We left there just before dawn today.”

  “So you wouldn’t have passed my brother. He headed east and not south. He is traveling on horseback, riding at speed.”

  Her stream of talk was cut off by another knock at the door announcing the Baron de la Brosse, Cédric, and Jean-Louis.

  “So this is where you’re hiding!” exclaimed the baron jovially, crossing the room to kiss Aurore’s forehead and clap Dom on the shoulder. He greeted the secretary effusively, his smile strained and wary.

  The secretary watched in silence as Aurore’s family arrayed themselves at her side—at Dom’s side.

  “The Baron de Lucenay and his heir have disappeared from court, but a search has been mounted for them. Albert de Lucenay is said to be a credible shot with a crossbow, did you know?” The secretary grinned suddenly. “I shouldn’t take such pleasure in the fall of my rival in the council, should I? Really, all that remains is that we take the perpetrators here into custody. One of the leaders is dead, non?”

  “Self-defense.” Dom shuddered at the memory of the glint of steel, Aurore spinning to face her captor, the gush of blood. To think of the sort of trial Aurore would face if the king suspected her of murdering Saint-Ange was impossible.

  At least speaking kept the secretary’s eyes on him. The man smoothed his lace cuffs. Really, how did he keep his sleeves so white when travelling? He had probably ridden in a carriage while the musketeers escorted him on horseback, but even so, he should have been dusty.

  “Since His Highness’s instructions were a bit…different”—the man smirked—“and the outcome of the battle was meant to determine right and wrong, I believe he will interpret the man’s death and the other’s capture as a sign of guilt. It was all self-defense.”

  Aurore’s shudder shook Dom’s arm, and he took her hands in his.

  The secretary smirked again. “And if you had lost… Most of the musketeers who volunteered trained here at one time or another. I believe they would have taken justice into their own hands.”

  Dom took a huge breath. He had more friends than he realized. He had a family. He had Aurore.

  ****

  “Aurore…”

  Panic choked her in spite of the two glasses of wine she had drunk at the feast, toasting her family and loyal friends for their part in reclaiming the château. “No, Dominique. I cannot.”

  “It’s been cleaned completely, mon âme.” It had only been a few hours since they had retaken the château, but maids had stripped everything out of their rooms and miraculously “found” the fine bed linens that had disappeared when the villains took control. Likewise, Mansard had “found” the best wines that had been misplaced. And the best paintings. And much of Aurore’s wardrobe. Much of it smelled of damp, but the hidden tunnels had proven their worth in another way.

  “I simply… I will not.”

  Aurore knew she sounded stubborn and childish, but her heart pounded and her head spun when she approached the door of her bedchamber. Dom frowned, but she knew he was confused, not angry.

  “I cannot set foot inside my bedchamber; I most certainly cannot sleep in there. That’s where they held me prisoner, Dom, that’s where they…”

  Dom let out a grunt as if he had been hit. His arms tightened around her, and his breath sounded as if he had been running. “I didn’t even think of that, Aurore. I didn’t realize it was there. I just thought we would be the way we were.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder in shock. A maid hovered at the end of the hallway, waiting to help her prepare for bed. She shook her head at the woman, who eased back into the shadows. “How, Dom? How could we go back to the way we were?”

  At his confusion, her heart sank. She sighed. “So much has happened in the last two months. And I thought the last two weeks with you…”

  He grinned. “I meant the way we were when we first married, when we were in love. I mean, we are more in love now than before, n’est-ce pas? But then we were crazy with joy at being married.”

  He loved her. Relief washed over her. She couldn’t help but to tease. “But I am crazy with joy at being married now. Aren’t you?”

  His grin disappeared, and he took her hands and looked at her with an intensity she felt in her stomach. “I am crazy with joy, my love. But we are older and less likely to show the joy in silly ways.”

  She lowered her head and blinked demurely up at him. “But I like the silly ways the most.”

  He chuckled. “Girl!” he shouted, glancing at the end of the hall. The maid rushed into sight. “Open my door.” He lifted Aurore easily, not wincing at the use of his injured left arm.

  “Please,” whispered Aurore into his ear.

  “Please.” He smiled. “Then you are dismissed. Tomorrow, I’d like you to move all of the comtesse’s things into my room.”

  “But where will you sleep, mon amour?”

  “In my room, of course. I’d rather let it be known that I am crazy with joy and sleeping next to my wife, who drives away my nightmares.”


  “Thank you, Dom,” she whispered as he laid her on his bed.

  He removed the leather coat he had worn during his travels and the assault on the château, tossing it carelessly to the side. He bent over to remove his boots, leaving him only in a rough brown linen shirt and dark brown breeches tied at his waist and below his knees.

  He stepped toward her and reached for the tie of her emerald cloak, now over a bodice and skirt of fine linen, suitable for a summer day in the provinces. “May I help with your cloak, Madame?” he said, his voice soft and deep.

  She shivered slightly, her body responding to him the way it should, the way it used to.

  He paused when he saw the blood smears that marred the pale lining of the cloak. She didn’t know why she had put the cloak back on after changing her clothes. The maids had wanted to sew in a new lining, but she had kept the evidence of her attack—her triumph and her violence—close to her.

  His hands shook as he covered his eyes. “I failed you again.”

  She shivered and began undoing the ties and hooks that held her simple dress closed.

  He stopped her with one large hand. “You should not have had to defend yourself. We should have set several capable men to watch over you, not one man, who was easily ambushed, and Emmanuel, with his litany of excuses.” His voice was a soft growl.

  She squeezed his hand lightly. “You came to rescue me. I saved myself. I will have nightmares…”

  “I will be there to wake you.”

  She smiled, tears springing to her eyes. “Yes, please. But you don’t understand…”

  He looked at her, truly listening, his dark eyes expectant.

  “I will pray for forgiveness for killing Saint-Ange—”

  “What a name for a demon.” Dom scowled fiercely.

  “But I do not regret it.”

  He stilled.

  “We won. I won.” She clutched at Dom’s hands. “I stopped him from hurting me. I had revenge. It might make me a sinner to not regret that I killed him, but I do not.”

  Dom shook his head. “I should have—”

  She put her hand over his mouth, frowning. “It was my revenge to take. I would never have taken it in cold blood. But now that it is done, I cannot regret it.”

  “You won.” Dom didn’t sound convinced. “I will never leave you alone again. You will travel with me everywhere. You will be guarded if I so much as turn my back.”

  “Now I can win at anything. Anything.” She shook her head when he shook his. “You do not understand, especially when I have just panicked and refused to go into my old chamber.”

  His eyes held hers.

  She shivered. “I will try again later. But for now, I have won. We have won.”

  His eyes lit up as she yanked at her ties.

  “Let me do that,” he murmured.

  She dropped her hands and nodded. He eased the boned bodice from her shoulders and pulled the skirts out from under her, then tossed it all toward his dirty tunic. She was left in only a plain, thin chemise. In the fading daylight, she knew he could see her nipples and the juncture of her legs. She lay back on the bed, stretching her arms over her head. She was bold. She was fearless.

  Dom’s breath became ragged as he bent forward and ran his hand up under her shift to her knees to untie the garters, the heat of his hands blazing through her.

  Her heart pounded hard as his hand brushed downward, leaving goose bumps.

  “Aurore…” He coughed to clear his throat, then spoke again. “Aurore, if at any time you are frightened, tell me immediately.”

  She closed her eyes and thought of her attackers and shuddered, then she opened them again and looked into the eyes of her husband, her brothers’ friend and the man she had always loved. “I think I will be all right, Dom.”

  He rested his warm, trembling hand on her thigh. “But promise to tell me.”

  She nodded. “I will tell you if there is any problem, mon amour.”

  “I will proceed slowly. Tell me what you want.”

  He raised her shift, lightly caressing her legs as he went. His hand brushed over the burn on her leg, but for once it didn’t hurt.

  “I want you, Dom.”

  His eyes snapped from her legs to her face, and evidently, whatever her expression was, it reassured him. He smiled the slow, handsome smirk that meant he was ready to seduce her.

  She smiled back and slid her legs a little apart, making his eyes snap back to her most private place. “However, Dom, I want one thing first.”

  “Anything, mon âme.”

  “I want you to undress. Slowly.”

  He stepped back and untied his neck cloth. He slid it away, his gaze intent on hers. She glanced below his freshly-shaven chin—his valet had traveled in the group of villagers and servants who followed the troops to the château—at the dark chest hair that showed through the gap in his shirt. He untied it at the neck, showing a larger V. He untied the drawstring at his waist, letting his breeches sag low on his hips. He pulled the shirttails from his waistband, then the whole shirt off over his head.

  Over the past few weeks, she had never seen his bare chest in its entirety. Even the night he had let her touch him all over, it had been dark.

  She had always loved his chest. His shoulders were broad, his ribs covered with a layer of muscle. His waist, though thicker than when they married, was far from soft. There was more hair on him than when he was only twenty. Her hands itched to pet him.

  And now he was reaching for the waistband of his breeches. He dragged them and the drawers underneath down.

  Aurore looked at his face, focused intently on hers. His harsh expression was control, not anger. She smiled at him and glanced down his body as he let his breeches drop to the floor, and his erection bobbed free.

  She waited for the panic to hit her. Maybe because she was watching for it, it never came. She felt her smile widen as he kicked the breeches away and stepped toward her.

  “Let me help you remove your shift, Madame.” His voice was a deep grumble, barely more than a whisper.

  She lifted the shift herself, spreading her legs. Dom grunted and stepped toward her, impatience in every line, yet his hands were slow and gentle.

  “Don’t be afraid to touch me, Dom,” she whispered.

  He slid the thin linen past her face and dropped it to the floor. “I don’t want to scare you.”

  She stared at his frown, at the lips she wanted to kiss, and shivered only from the cool air of the bedchamber against her heating body. “You won’t.”

  Those lips smiled just slightly, and he leaned in so his eyes were just inches from hers. “If I take you as hard and fast as I want to right now, I would frighten myself.”

  She shivered harder as fire swept through her.

  He climbed over her and lay on his back. He shuddered and pulled her closer to him, their skin brushing, her breasts alive with sensation. She spread her legs and straddled him, her wetness brushing his hardness.

  “Take me, Aurore. I am your knight. I am yours.”

  If you enjoyed The Indispensable Wife,

  you will want to read the sequel.

  Here’s a sample to get you started…

  The

  Honorable Officer

  by

  Philippa Lodge

  Châteaux and Shadows, Book Two

  Chapter One

  Western Franche-Comté (not yet France)

  War of the Devolution, February 1668

  Jean-Louis, Chevalier de Cantière, second son of the Baron de la Brosse and colonel in the army of Sa Majesté Louis XIV, currently subduing Franche-Comté, stood from his makeshift desk as the dispatch rider left his tent. He stretched his neck from side to side and reached his hands over his head to loosen the tension in his shoulders. Among the shouts of soldiers and drovers and the clatter of hooves of oxen and draft horses, he heard a fast horse approach, surely another dispatch. He hoped it was news that the Spanish Army was not on the move, tr
ying to break out of the siege at Dole. All the reports so far had been that the enemy was lining up, possibly for another offensive.

  He was sick of offensive and defensive maneuvers, sick of the reek of gunpowder, unwashed bodies, sewage, blood, and fear. He had twenty-three men ill with diarrhea, two of whom were expected to die at any moment. He had thirty-nine others injured and unable to fight, fifteen now missing limbs and ready to be carried to their homes if they survived the inflammation and infection that ran rampant in the dirty conditions, and twenty others dead in battle. Just in the last three days.

  His division still stood nearly two hundred strong. As strong as poorly educated peasants could stand with minimal training, inadequate food, shelter, and clothing, and inaccurate weapons. He was sure they would win this battle and overwhelm the town’s medieval defenses. Cannons trumped stone walls rather easily. Pitifully easy: pitiful for the residents of the city, most of whom probably didn’t care at all which king ruled over them as long as they could start planting when the frosts ended. They—and his soldiers—were surely as eager as he to end the winter’s campaigns and return home.

  Jean-Louis heard the soldier standing guard confront a man. A courier, a tall adolescent with a floppy hat, came into the tent and bowed low. Jean-Louis nodded.

  The courier’s voice squeaked in excitement. “There’s a lady coming to see you, Monsieur le Colonel.”

  Jean-Louis scowled, which sent a flicker of fear across the boy’s face. A lady? Wars had hinged on kidnappings and ransoms before. He wondered if his family would pay his ransom if this was a trap. His father and siblings would. His late wife’s parents were as rich as Croesus, but they wouldn’t want him back. “What sort of lady?”

  “Not the, ah…mistress type, I would say. Sort of tall and awkward, in a rather ugly dress. She didn’t sound like a servant, though. At least that’s what Jouvet said. He spoke with her and is riding next to her carriage with her outrider.” The boy shrugged, then froze, as if he had been warned that a shrug was too insolent a gesture when speaking to a colonel.

  “And her name?” demanded Jean-Louis.

  “She would not give it, mon colonel. Jouvet took pity on her and did not press for it. She said she is from your wife’s family.”